


Use Me

by trash4ficsaboutlurv



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: (Is that A Real Tag), Fluff, Light Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:59:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8643238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash4ficsaboutlurv/pseuds/trash4ficsaboutlurv
Summary: Steve wants to avoid making decisions





	

Sam sighed when he came home from work to hear the strains of some sad white man pain music from the early 2000s playing in his living room. For years, Sam had struggled to keep Steve's musical education away from the Snow Patrols, Linkin Parks, and Simple Plans, but Bucky or Clint had got to him somehow someway. And now whenever Steve needed a brooding session, he turned to these angsty warblers to get him through it.  

Sam set his keys and phone on the table by the door and prayed to God this was one of those 'I finally got around to watching Rent and it made me sad' moments and not a 'I've taken a good, hard look at all I've been through and snapped" situation. God, Sam couldn't deal with one of those situations right now. Which might sound selfish, but dammit, it was Friday night; he'd had a long day at work; and he wanted Steve to not be staring into the abyss.  

He stepped into the living room and turned down the speakers to a whisper. 

Steve looked up and smiled. Okay, so probably not an abyss-staring moment after all.  

"What's with the angst music?" Sam asked. "How was your day?" 

"Tony called," Steve explained. He tried to say it casually, but his face hardened a little.  

"To apologize?" Sam ventured optimistically.  

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Sam. Tony Stark called me to apologize." 

"I could just leave you to listen to your white angst," Sam warned, folding his arms over his chest.  

"I'm sorry. You know how I get. Tony just – Come sit with me. You can turn off that noise. Come sit with me." 

Sam joined Steve on the sofa and patted his knee. "Wanna talk about it?"  

"It's a choice between a lot of shit I don't want to do and figuring out which one I don't want to do the least."  Steve leaned over and nuzzled Sam's ear. 

"Pros and con lists are good," Sam pointed.  

Steve dragged hand his down Sam's chest. "You know what else is good?" 

"My dick isn't magical," Sam said (or squeaked. His voice might have done something dodgy there at the end). "Having sex with me isn't going to make your problems go away."  

Steve smiled against Sam's jaw. "What if one of my problems is I'm not having sex with you?" He kissed along the column of Sam's throat, his breath and lips warm, electrifying. Already Sam's skin was ticklish with desire, needing a firmer touch while _he_ was trying to be firm with Steve about confronting all this Tony drama head on. Steve's fingers grazed across Sam's nipple through the double layer of his undershirt and V-neck sweater -- a filthy, dirty cheating move if ever there was one.  

"Do you ever think about how much you use sex to avoid dealing with things?" Sam asked.  

Steve bit Sam's clavicle, enough that it kind of hurt. "I'm not your patient, Sam. I'm your boyfriend. Let me love you." 

"Let you _use_ me," Sam corrected as Steve kissed away his bite.  

"The way you're talking, I'm starting to think you don't want me to do this," Steve said as he slid his hand up under Sam's shirt. "Or this." He caught Sam's parted lips in a kiss that started off playfully enough, but veered decidedly into hot, breath-stealing, soul-melting territory by the time Steve had pulled Sam into his lap so that Sam was straddling him. When they pulled apart, the color was high on Steve's cheeks, but he sounded less winded than Sam felt. Sam maybe needed an inhaler. Steve traced the outline of Sam's lips, then slid his hands back under Sam's shirt to trace smaller and smaller circles around his desperately sensitive nipples.  "I didn't know it was _using_ you to make you feel good, Sam. To take you to your bedroom. To suck your big, gorgeous dick. To open you up so slow, you're squirming, you're begging, you think you might come before I even get to fuck you. And when I do, when I do fuck you, Sam, I keep you right on the edge because I want to drag it out for you. I want it to last and last and last. And maybe I want you to beg some more. Maybe that's the selfish bit. Because I like how you sound, Sam, when I'm inside you. I like the way you sound and taste and look. Utterly indescribable. So maybe I'm using you because I want to hear and taste and see you right on the cusp of coming for as long as I can keep you there." Steve shrugged. "But if you don't want it, you don't want it." 

He made to lift Sam off his lap and Sam grabbed his shoulder. "Wait," he panted.  

Steve's tilted his head and looked up at him innocently.  

"Maybe..." 

"Yeah?" Steve asked.  

"Maybe you can worry about Tony later." 

"Really, Sam? Whatever will I do with all that free time?" Steve looked so guileless nobody would know he was tugging on the waist of Sam's jeans, trying to get his hands on his ass.  

Sam pressed his forehead to Steve's, collected himself enough to say, "Use me, Steve. Use me." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> LITERALLY NO PROOFREADING. NONE.


End file.
